


The Debate (MC HC 6)

by TheChocolateArmor



Category: PBG Hardcore series
Genre: A dumb thing, F/M, How do you this, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what is even going on help, M/M, PBGHardcore, Warning: Atrocious Writing ahead, wake me up inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChocolateArmor/pseuds/TheChocolateArmor
Summary: The struggle of Dean Elazab as he attempts to decide which of his friends gets a second chance, and which is forced to remain dead. (Aka, a dumb thing I wrote partly because Ryzab fluff, and partly to shut up all those peeps on the subreddit (including myself) who wanted there to be actual tension before the big decision was made. Bear with me.)





	The Debate (MC HC 6)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post, am I doing it right? No? Okay then, I guess I'll just go hide in my corner then... ;-;

Dean Elazab faced one of the hardest decisions he had experienced in a long time.  
He fingered the strange golden Totem of Undying in his hands, wondering who of his friends would be more ideal to save from their untimely fates. Memories flashed through his indecisive mind, twisting his being into tiny internal knots, spiraling around him like leaves on a windy autumn day. He could still hear the echoes of Dodger’s screams as her body was ripped apart by the creeper that had taken her from behind. He could still see the horrified look on PBG's face as he watched his big brother, McJones, silently succumb to the fiery lava pit he had fallen into. The constant flashbacks haunted him, but knowing that he would be able to allow one of the deceased a second chance gave him a tiny stream of comfort.  
Of course, the hard part was deciding who to revive. Just an hour earlier, he had known EXACTLY who he intended to bring back, as there was only one who had died. But now that Dodger had so suddenly kicked the bucket as well, he was beginning to have second thoughts.  
All around him, he heard arguing. It seemed that his teammates were also having a hard time making their decision, though each individual at least had an idea of who they would prefer to have come back.  
“Dodger didn't even get a chance!”, Chad, one of the newer adventurers, was shouting. “She may have been inexperienced, but her death was not because of her flaws. She had so much potential!”  
“But McJones was the guy who knew things! Without him, WE don't have a chance!”, PBG retaliated.  
“We have to stop relying on one person!”, Jared piped in. “We’ve got to find a way to take care of ourselves without him, or we'll never learn. I say, we revive Dodger.”  
“N-No we should bring back McJones,” Jeff sighed, shakily. “He knows how to make potions, and I. …. I don't want another season 5..” Voices raised as the debate went on, and the discussion became more heated with each remark. Normally, Dean would’ve reveled in an argument like this one, however, the talk of having to choose between the two coolest friends he'd had on this adventure until now made him feel sick. He silently weighed his options.

_“I went on this journey for you, McJones,”_ he thought to himself. _“I promised I would bring you back, if more for my sake than yours….”_ Dean let his left hand balance the totem, then took his free hand and reached into his pocket, anxiously fingering the twisted and scorched eyeglasses that rested inside- a habit that had begun when he’d recovered them from McJones’s flaming corpse. He often fiddled with the glasses, especially when he was thinking about his late friend.  
_“Well, he’s more than a friend, really,”_ Dean thought. He didn’t know what to call his relationship with McJones, but he felt that his companion definitely deserved more than the simple title of ‘Friend’. At any rate, Dean missed him. Every night, he thought about McJones, with his soft, round features, his quiet, almost humble manner, and his warm, perfect smile. Dean had sworn to bring him back, sworn upon his life that he would find the mysterious totem that lay hidden in some jungle.  
But now that Dodger was gone, Dean's own desires seemed to be less important. Dodger, while not the most experienced adventurer, was a fast learner, and her wit and charm comforted Dean. She was understanding and patient, and she was good at making any situation more lighthearted. In fact, she'd been the only person who had been able to make him smile after McJones's passing. In a way, he had been living off her friendship, and when she had died, he realized he was slowly breaking. His heart was as fragile as glass, and with every tragedy, its surface was becoming more cracked. The deaths were making him into a miserable mess, and this new revival opportunity was just making Dean feel more twisted inside.  
_“Why?”,_ he thought. _“Why did it have to be them?”_  
Coming back to reality, and the argument, he glanced at Chad as he fought for Dodger, noticing the wetness of his eyes and the solemn, reverent manner in which he referred to her. His voice seemed to tremble slightly, and he stumbled over some words with a few stutters. He kept pulling nervously on the hoodie strings of his Barney jacket, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was humbly clasping his hands in front of him- a very closed, weak position indeed. It didn’t look like he had recovered from Dodger’s accident. In fact, it seemed like Chad missed Dodger almost as much as Dean missed McJones. Dean couldn’t bear to look at Chad anymore, so he turned his gaze to Jared. But what he saw in Jared’s eyes wasn’t any better. His irises seemed duller somehow, and his pupils had dilated somewhat- though Dean couldn’t tell if this was from the dim light or from something else. He eyed Jared's furrowed brows, his serious demeanor that twisted his already broken smile. Dean knew that Jared trusted Dodger's instincts, as some of them were like unto his own, but looking at him again, he seemed to genuinely believe in her. Jared seemed to understand that Dodger could do whatever she put her mind to, even if she wasn’t the most experienced of the group.  
But then again, Dean could see the pained expression on PBG’s face, the one that felt helpless without his older brother. It seemed that PBG had suddenly been thrust into a leading position in the team that he did not feel confident in. His face reeked of self-doubt, and hopelessness was all Dean could see in him And the depression that painted Jeff was almost unbearable to look at, what with all the poor man had been through the last time they were in a world like this.  
As he watched his friends debate, Dean realized that he was the tiebreaker, and it was up to him to decide which of his friends, both living and dead, needed the most help. Cursing, he looked over his own options again and again, but he had no idea who to revive. His mind was a tank of sloshing ideas, finding no correlation with one another. Dean tried desperately to reconnoiter his thoughts, but to no avail. As the argument continued, he felt like he was drowning in his own conscience, weighed down by the grief of loss.  
Then finally, slowly, without saying a word, he made a decision. He stood up, looked his companions in the eyes, and cleared his throat.  
“Dodger!”, he exclaimed.  
They all looked at him.  
“Um… I mean..”, he muttered a bad word as he realized his confidence was beginning to drain. “I think we should revive Dodger.” He cursed himself for hesitating, but there was little he could do about that.  
“What?!”, PBG cried. “I thought that you'd be all for McJones!”  
“Well, of course I would be,” Dean tried to ignore his reddening face. “And I'm definitely going to miss my beautiful boi, but Dodger’s a hero! All McJones did was die in a fire……” He trailed off, looking at the ground. He felt awful, like a ruthless traitor. Of course, he knew McJones would have been perfectly fine with his choice, and even the things Dean had said about him. McJones was the kind of companion who knew that Dean had his reasons, as stupid as they were, and for the most part, he respected those reasons. But Dean still felt like a complete tool.  
“Well, that settles it,” Jared clapped his hands. “Dean was the tiebreaker. We're reviving Dodger.” Sighs filled the room, some of relief, and some of defeat. Despite having won, Dean’s sigh joined the latter group. He knew he had made a stupid decision, but what else could he have done? No matter who he chose, the team would suffer. But even as he thought this, he began to realize just what the consequences of his actions would be. He thought about the cold nights he'd spend crying himself to sleep, full of regret almost all the time, having to put on an act every day.  
_“Well… at least I'll see my boi next time,”_ Dean sighed. _“At any rate, Chad and Jared will be happier. Plus, Dodger will be back, and she’s awesome, so maybe I'll feel better when she returns.”_ He took comfort in this small thought, knowing that he had at least saved some of his friends from the heartbreak that currently tormented him. And so, he began to smile.  
“I’m going to turn in,” he told the others. “Tomorrow is a big day, my friends.”  
“Yeah, I think I’ll join you,” Jeff yawned. “I could use a rest.”  
“I think we ALL could use a rest,” Chad chimed in. The rest of the group heartily agreed that sleep was needed before they would revive anyone, and they all scampered off to bed.  
Within an hour, Dean was tucked comfortably in a warm bed, listening to the sounds of his teammates as they snored softly. He clutched McJones’s glasses tightly, hugging them to his chest as if they were the most precious things in the world. Because, to Dean, that was the case. He let out a quiet sigh, or at least a quiet sigh by his standards, letting exhaustion sooth his heartache. He was tired, ever so tired. The events that day had simply warn him out, and he was quite happy to finally sleep in his own bed again, even though he knew McJones was no longer laying beside him. Yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about the professor. He wondered what McJones would say to him right now, if he were still alive.  
“I bet he’d tell me how much of a dork I am for worrying about him so much,” Dean thought, chuckling to himself, despite his melancholy state. “But, I suppose he is right. He usually is, anyway…” He rolled over onto his side, curling up against his wooly bedding.  
“Goodnight, Sir Ivan,” he whispered into the night, calling McJones by an ancient name, one that was not remembered by many. Silence answered him, but though it was cold and empty, Dean was too tired to care. He simply smiled, and closed his eyes as he waited for dreams to carry him to faraway lands. And as he finally let sleep embrace him, he thought he could just hear an old, familiar chuckle.


End file.
